Dwight St.
in Springfield
81 degrees,
hot, sprinkling
must be a
rainbow
over the lip
of the
railroad
tracks.
Cityscape
so different
from my own
thundercloud
peering
over the top
of a
5 story
building,
graffiti climbing
up
the outside
wall
Not even a
pigeon
in plain
sight.
The sky
moves quickly
overhead
between
the
buildings and the lampposts
Decades if
not centuries
are seen in
what is in front
of my eyes.
Architecture
both ornamental
and
practical
Railroad
stations identify a city.
I am here for
you
Waiting
when did I
learn
to be so
good at waiting?
Is it an
asset of being
a middle
child?
holding
place
staying calm
a shelter
for others?
But I wish
to search
for the
rainbow, leave
my chilling space
and wander in
my own life.
I wish to
solve
my own
puzzles
answer my
own questions
draw my own map.
I wish to
open
my new
journey
Embrace my
own body
Care take my new heart
Feed my own
wants.
when did I
learn to be a good waiter?
Now I need
to wait for me
climb over
the lip and look
for the
rainbow,
You may want
to hold my hand
feel free.
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